


The Devil's Water, It Ain't So Sweet

by universe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Porn Battle, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-22
Updated: 2009-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>At night, the memory of her invades his thoughts and dreams.</i> Bill Adama does not get distracted easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Water, It Ain't So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [Leaving Just Your Corpse Behind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/99208), set some time after the events of _Lay Down Your Burdens_.

Bill Adama does not get distracted easily. He has spent most of his life in the military and knows how to keep his mind on track even in the most difficult of times. And even now, with Laura planetside and him stuck on Galactica, his attention is not split when he is on duty, his focus lies on the protection of the colonists. (Truth be told, he half expects the Cylons to jump into orbit every minute that passes.)

But the nights, oh the _nights_, are an entirely different matter.  
At night, when the last reports are read and all the logs are updated, when one of the last books remaining in the universe is put away, when everyone has turned to sleep, the memory of her invades his thoughts and dreams.

Sometimes, his mind replays past meetings between the Admiral and the President, the familiarity of the scenes making his heart ache under the weight of his nostalgia. Sometimes, they are sitting in his quarters, talking, discussing, laughing, not as the leaders of the fleet but as Bill and Laura and it feels so right it hurts. Sometimes, he imagines scenarios that have never happened, an encounter before the fall, walks along the beaches of Tauron, and he wishes there was a way to make it all come true.  
And _sometimes_, sometimes he pictures her naked and needy and wanton before him, on top of him, surrounding him. It's these times; when he longs more for her body than her mind, that are easiest to deal with, and for that he feels thankful and guilty at the same time.

Tonight is one of those times; tonight, after he has finished re-reading _Dark Day_, images of Laura flood his mind as the memory of her smell and of the feeling of her skin, on the rare occasion they have touched, fills his senses.

He tries to clear his head, to think of something else, but knows that in the end, he will succumb to the temptation of losing himself in her, of forgetting the reality, at least for a few precious minutes. He eventually gives in and lets his imagination take over.

Bill has a lot of different fantasies, and he loves them all equally, but there is one that will always be his favourite. The CIC. He can't pinpoint where his infatuation with that particular idea comes from. Maybe it's the forbiddenness, the exposure, or maybe it's the control he has there, would have there over _her_. Maybe it's just the idea of her half sitting, half lying on the CIC table, her fragile frame lit from behind. He doesn't know, nor does he care. It's his fantasy, after all. Which is also why fantasy Bill and Laura are not surprised by the absence of crew members of any kind in the entire room.

With everyone leaving Galactica to go down to the surface, it would not even be the most unlikely of scenarios, Bill thinks bitterly, but then takes a deep breath and concentrates fully on the woman in front of him.

_She's wearing his favourite shirt, the white one that shows off her cleavage. He admires it openly, and instead of averting his eyes like he would in reality, he lets them rake over her entire body. The long legs are partially hidden by a skirt. In this particular fantasy, it's always a skirt. For practical reasons, and simply because he loves her legs.  
The soft curls of her hair frame her smiling face; he can see the mischief in her eyes._ He is always turned on by her playfulness. It makes her look younger, more carefree, and lets all the responsibilities of their respective offices vanish in an instant.

_Before he can ask what she's planning, she has reached the CIC table and leans her back against it, giving him a look that can only be described as downright wicked. She spreads her legs slightly, causing her skirt to ride up an inch or two, while she takes off her suit jacket and lets it drop to the floor. If this were real, she wouldn't be so careless with the few clothes she has left, but it's not, and he knows there will be no creases._

He is still rooted to the spot, watching, staring, and his breathing speeds up when she puts one of her hands on her right collarbone and guides it over her breast and stomach down to the top end of her skirt. A smirk spreads on her face, as his hand slips into his boxershorts. His grip is firm, determined, and provides temporary relief.

_She knows exactly how much he likes to watch and therefore slides her hand underneath her shirt and bra. Her other hand wanders under her skirt and tugs on her underwear, letting it fall right next to her discarded jacket. Her fingers start moving, and even though he can't _see_ it, he knows exactly what she's doing, and the barrier of her clothes only heightens his arousal._

She lets her head fall forward and starts panting, her hands still busy under her suit. He loves her like this, unashamedly sensual and without restraint. He wonders whether she'd be anything like this in reality. Considering her affair with Adar and the apparent obsession with a certain execution method, he is quite sure his fantasies don't vary too much from the real Laura Roslin. He mind makes a quick jump to the airlock, another frequent setting of their fantasy encounters, and he groans at the thought of how much he imagines she would like that particular location. He strokes himself faster.

_Bill hears Laura's breath quicken and clenches his fists; he is torn between watching as she brings herself closer and closer to the edge and closing the distance between them to become an active participant. He finally decides for the latter, and when he stops in front of her, she ceases her movements and removes her hands from her skin._

Her left hand glistens with proof of how ready she is for him. Watching her reaction closely, he slowly takes each of her fingers into his mouth and licks them clean, triggering a deep moan from either or both of them, he's not quite sure which.

The thought of tasting her like this never fails to turn him on even further; _his need to feel her, to have her, to possess her becomes too great to ignore._

He wraps his arms around her and lifts her onto the CIC table, spreading her legs and stepping between them in the process. His uniform pants are becoming painfully tight, so he unzips them to decrease the pressure.

She leans back until her upper body is spread out on the table in front of him. He thinks for a second or two about not giving her what she wants, about teasing her until she begs instead, but in the end, he can't resist the temptation and lets his hands roam over her body. She whimpers, because she always does in his dreams, an indicator of how close he already is, and he tightens his fist.

_He pulls her shirt and bra down just far enough to reveal one of the parts of her that fascinate him most, and then lets his hands explore the unfamiliar territory, making her moan and sigh with bliss._

She wants more, he can tell from the sounds and the way she tries to wrap her legs around his waist, but he's not standing close enough for that. Yet. He has every intention of being closer to her than he has ever been in reality. He pushes his pants and boxers down and her skirt up, and enters her with one quick shove. He knows he would be slower and more careful if this were real, for he would not want to hurt her, would not risk it for anything, but in his imagination, she never minds. On the contrary, even, she rejoices in it, in the knowledge that she makes him lose control like this. She shows him exactly how much she loves this when she starts grinning while looking at him through half-closed eyelids, but he pushes forward again, causing her self-satisfied smirk to vanish as her mouth opens to suck in air.

She is tight, so impossibly tight, and he can already feel the tingling that preceds his climax. He won't last long.

Bill's other hand grips the bed sheet forcefully, needing something to hold on to as beads of sweat begin forming on his forehead.

_Laura tilts her hips and meets him thrust for thrust; she is keyed up too. Their movements quicken until they are nothing short of frantic, when suddenly, he can feel her tense and shatter around him, and with another bucking of his hips,_ he finds his release.

His moan is loud, louder than it should be, and it takes him a few minutes to come back to himself, to shake off the fantasy. Once his breathing has evened out again, he walks into the head to clean himself up and falls back into bed afterwards.

He is grateful for his exhaustion, he is too tired to start thinking about how much he misses her. And yet, his mind is filled with images of her when sleep finally claims him.


End file.
